Hey there little one.
Said the spider to the fly.
It's time to die, screamed the sky.
A nights worth of spun yarn torn.
Resplendent in new jacket, yet confined to the ground.
The fly learns to walk.
Picking cautiously between the blades.
Earth turned in front, as if from a spade.
Floor moves beneath, trapdoor swings.
Pig in a blanket.
Struggle for me, whispered silken threads.
Settling about your face.
Swinging in the larder, mockingly high.
Little did our host know of deadly cargo.
Wiggling through tender organs.
Preparing for the feast.
One by one they burst forth.
Infesting the entire crop.
Soon a new kind of worm burrowed here.
Parasitic.
That spider never had a chance.
Buried by a thousand corpses.
As one fell two took its place.
Inexorable.
Finally, the earth moved once more.
A little tremble, then slow roar.
Ten thousand took to flight.
Blotting out fierce suns light.
Lord of the flies.
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